


The Night I Met My Double

by Marzi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-01 23:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: Emily Prentiss goes missing and the team's only lead is a man who doesn't seem to exist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place just before Rossi joins the team because back when I was binge watching CM that was where I was at when I started writing this. Many years ago. This is also definitely more CM than TAH. So... yeah.

 

 

He had a way of laughing that was infectious. When he spotted her trying to hide her giggles behind her hand, he smiled, and she knew she was his next target. He kept cracking jokes until she was laughing so hard she couldn't hide it. They escaped the crowd and tucked themselves away in the corner of the room with a tray of champagne. It was scandalous somehow, though no one was paying them any mind.

 

He was older than her, but the seething teenager who grew up around cocktails parties and politicians reveled in it. Emily never liked the term 'daddy issues', but she was alright with issues. It wasn't something she indulged in often, but he was so damn charming, and it wasn't like she was going to date him, so what did it matter?

 

Besides, she asked him, he might not have done anything if she hadn't.

 

With hindsight, he probably would have.

 

The first thing Frank Doyle did when they got back to his hotel room was crack open the mini bar. It looked like he had been at it before. A professional drinker, he'd said. He didn't seem like any drunk she knew, so she thought it was another joke.

 

When she coughed after a swig of gin gone down wrong he looked disappointed. If she had been looking, it was her first sign that something was wrong. It was really her second, but when she had seen him earlier in the crowd, his eyes furious, she hadn't been sure he was even looking at her. The expression on his face when they were introduced had been anything but angry. Frank had been rapturous when they shook hands. She figured he had been making the best of an alright party by being as enthusiastic as he could about everything. He had a way of lifting the spirits of those around him, as well as their glasses.

 

He really could drink.

 

She could taste it on him when they kissed. His mouth burned like the whiskey he'd switched them to when she didn't take to the gin. The heat sank with him as he moved down to her sex. She had barely gotten out of her dress before he had been touching her. He had only taken off his jacket and his shoes, more focused on her than anything. She saw little reason to complain; her head was already swimming from the alcohol, but his mouth sent her spinning. There were no rails in the headboard, so she clutched at the sheets, and his hair, then his shirt. She could hardly breathe to scream when she came.

 

He laid his cheek against her thigh and watched her regain control. She felt too damn good to question the look on his face. When he didn't move, she pulled him up her body, fingers somewhat drunkenly fumbling on the buttons of his shirt. He wasn't exactly fit, but seeing as she was already in his room and what he had just made her feel, she didn't care.

 

It took until her smile for him to start really moving again.

 

He pulled her on top of him once they finally removed his pants, and she worried she still hadn't regained enough control of her legs. His hands on her sides helped ground her, and she took her time with her fingertips to explore his body. He had become more interested in watching her. His eyes were reverent as they swept across her body, almost in worship. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Another warning her alcohol and endorphin soaked brain ignored. When she closed her eyes his fingers dug into her hips so tight she knew there would be bruises. He looked so damn relieved when she opened them that she bent down to kiss him again, reassuring him of something she didn't understand.

 

Frank Doyle seemed to have the same enthusiasm for sex as he did for drinks.

 

He left her tangled in the sheets to revisit the mini bar, and she wasn't sure if she should let herself sleep or gather her things and leave. When he caught her watching him he smiled, and she laid her head back on the pillows. She was more relaxed and at ease than she had been in months. Good company and good sex did wonders in taking away the accumulating stress from work. The alcohol probably helped too.

 

“You're something else, Frank.”

 

“I know.”

 

Modesty was about the only thing he was lacking in as far as she could tell, but he carried it well. Emily found herself giggling again, hand on her face to smother the sound. He was also quite the sight, mixing cocktails in the buff under the harsh hotel room lights.

 

“Did we really just do that?”

 

“I believe we did, love.”

 

An endearment he had thrown around at the party downstairs easily enough. It sounded different with them both naked in his room. It probably would have been wrong if it sounded the same.

 

“Do you normally pick up women at charities?”

 

“Can't say that I do. Care for a drink?”

 

“Why not.” She sat up and he was at her side in an instant, offering her a tiny whiskey bottle. He clinked his bottle against hers in a quick toast before finishing it. “How is it that I've been attending functions like this most of my life, and have never met you? Your presence would have made things a lot more bearable.”

 

“Then I apologize for arriving to you so late.” Rather than rejoin her on the bed, he drifted back towards the bar. For someone who had been so eager to touch her, his sudden shyness from contact was almost cute.

 

“It's alright. Now that I've got my own life my mother's parties are few and far in-between.” She felt utterly ridiculous drinking from the small bottle, but asking for a cup seemed pointless.

 

“Ah! You're Ambassador Prentiss's daughter.”

 

“You didn't realize?”

 

“I thought there was something familiar about the name when we were introduced.”

 

She laughed, because there was nothing else to do in the face of such absurdity. Her mother knew everyone in the ballroom downstairs. Frank Doyle had to know her mother, and thus at least know of her, to even be at the event.

 

“Unlike before, I feel like that was at my expense.”

 

“Maybe a little.”

 

“Than allow me to drown my sorrow in another drink.” It had looked that he was going to drink it anyway, but having an excuse seemed to please him.

 

She sipped at her whiskey, finally noticing the assorted empty bottles on the nightstand. The man did have a passion for drink. Or was it despite what he said, and someone else had been up here with him before her? Emily pulled the sheets tighter around her body, skin prickling.

 

“Cold? I believe there is a thermostat somewhere.”

 

“No, that's alright. I think--” He was staring at her. He was totally naked and she had a sheet, and she felt more exposed. “I think I should be going.” She swung her legs off the bed, toes landing in the puddle that was her dress.

 

“So soon?”

 

She couldn't tell if he was being cartoonishly puppyish, or was genuinely distressed. Her mind was too fuzzy. She set down the unfinished mini bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. “Yeah, I'm afraid I don't have a room here.”

 

“Well, surely that's taken care of. You can stay here.”

 

Any affirmative she would have been tempted to give just a moment ago died in her throat. “Look, I'm sorry, but--”

 

“There's no need to apologize, you've done nothing wrong. Sorry for any discomfort.”

 

Curt but not insincere. He sounded as uncomfortable as she was beginning to feel. Had she given the impression she was interested in something other than sex? How could they possibly have communicated anything else to each other when they'd slipped away from the party to come up here?

 

“No discomfort, well-- no, I mean, we did just... I mean.. wow. Okay, yeah, I'm just gonna... I'm just gonna get dressed and go before I make things anymore awkward.”

 

While she shimmed into her dress and picked her panties up off the floor, he put on a robe from the bathroom. He helped with her back zipper at the door and she impulsively kissed his cheek. Most of her conscious mind couldn't understand her sudden decision to flee, and some part of her felt bad.

 

“I-- I had a good time.” The words sounded horrible the moment they left her mouth.

 

He smiled, and it was the saddest expression she had seen on his face all night. He held the door open for her with one hand, and in the other was a tiny vodka bottle. She could see more bottles poking out of the pocket on the robe. Whatever vices he was laden with, she felt hers were currently more apparent, what with her shoes in one hand and her panties in the other.

 

She stepped into the hallway, hesitating before she turned to face him again.

 

His smile widened, and whatever sadness she had just seen in him was hidden in the creases around his eyes. “Good night, Emily Prentiss.”

 

“Good night, Frank Doyle.”

 

She didn't understand why she didn't tell him goodbye.

 

* * *

 

 

“Good morning, sunshine.”

 

Garcia's noncommittal grunt just made Morgan smile wider. It was rare to catch her pre-caffienated, and he was willing to enjoy every moment he had with her tired.

 

“Have a long weekend?”

 

Another grunt.

 

She tried to slow down so that he would pass her, and he just shortened his steps.

 

“I had a good time. Feeling rejuvenated, ready for the week. Looks like we have plenty of time to catch up on all our old case work. Lots of sorting. Lots of relentless, repetitive, data entry.” He leaned closer to her as he spoke, just about brushing up against her as he finished.

 

She managed a smile. “You thinking of something else relentless and repetitive to give you that grin this early?”

 

“That's my girl.” He pulled ahead of her to open the door, and ushered her in.

 

She took a deep drink from her coffee before stepping through to the bullpen. JJ was at Reid's desk, a stack of folders clutched in her arms. The pleased look on her face at their arrival had him stopping before he reached the square of desks. Garcia even slowed to a stop rather than continue on to her office.

 

“We miss something?” Morgan wasn't sure who to keep an eye on, JJ or Reid.

 

“No.” The doctor half rose from his chair, digging in his pocket for something.

 

“You can take all the data you want, but you can't factor in random luck.” JJ held out her hand, and Reid put a five dollar bill into it.

 

“We are definitely missing something.” Morgan finally moved forward to his desk, setting down his things but keeping his eyes on the younger members of the team.

 

“I bet JJ five dollars that I could predict the order in which you would arrive this morning.”

 

She tucked the bill into her pocket. “To be fair, after Hotch and me he did predict that you and Garcia would arrive at the same time, and that you would hold open the door for her.”

 

“Then what was wrong about his prediction? Emily isn't here yet?” He finally looked towards her desk, expecting to see her jacket on the chair.

 

Her space was as clean as she had left it on Friday.

 

“Nope.” JJ pushed off from Reid's desk, taking a few steps before turning back to face him. “Wanna bet how late she's going to be?”

 

“Lacking data on the subject, I am going to pass.”

 

“If you collect data on anything more interesting, like say, sports outcomes, let me know.” Garcia waved with her coffee mug before departing with JJ.

 

“She really isn't the type to be late.” Morgan frowned at the apparent change in behavior.

 

He had figured her extreme punctuality was a part of her overcompensation when she first joined the team. Now that she was more relaxed around them, he had found it to just be a part of her character.

 

“Today is probably just an outlier. It is possible she got stuck in traffic, or any number of things.” Reid leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. “Of course, every number of those things can't be strictly random.”

 

How he never unbalanced himself and was dumped on the ground was beyond Morgan. He had probably calculated the correct angle of lean before ever attempting to stretch so far out on a piece of office equipment. “You aren't going to start actually calculating luck, are you?”

 

“I have nothing to quantify it with. Unless--”

 

“I don't wanna know.” Morgan took his phone out of his pocket before he sat down, setting it on his desk.

 

“Going to call her?”

 

“I don't know. I mean, she's probably just running late.”

 

They both stared at his phone. She wasn't even that late. Morgan shook his head, forcing his eyes away and towards his computer. He had work to do, and thinking about a teammate who was barely late wasn't going to help matters. Doing old case work and data entry was going to be mind numbing, no matter the face he put on with Garcia. The monitor was just lighting up as the system booted when he picked up his phone. He thumbed through his contacts, ignoring Reid's stare as he held the phone to his ear.

 

Ringing. Of course it was ringing. When she answered, she would be breathless, talking about how she'd be right there. She would probably think they had a case, what with him bothering to call, and--

 

“ _No, shut-up man!”_

 

“ _I told you not to answer you stupid dipshit--”_

 

“ _Fuck off, I can do what I want--”_

 

Morgan's whole body tensed, and he pulled himself forward towards his desk. “Who is this?”

 

The sharp tone of his words caught Reid's attention, who immediately sat up. Morgan snapped his fingers and pointed towards Garcia's office. He looked utterly confused, but Reid still went to fetch the analyst.

 

“ _Um, you called me.”_

 

“This isn't your phone.” Morgan did a quick check of his screen, making sure Prentiss was who he had called. Her name and the steady timer of his conversation stared back at him.

 

“ _The dude at the gas station gave it to me.”_

 

“ _Dude hang up.”_

 

“ _Stop it.”_

 

They were either on speakerphone or so close together that it didn't matter that only one of them was holding the phone. Their voices cracked when they stressed a word too long or yelled loud enough.

 

“What man?” They hadn't hung up yet, and he needed to keep them on track.

 

“ _Look, I don't have to tell you shit. Your friend gave me his phone. He didn't want it. I didn't steal it. Call him. On like, whatever his new number is.”_

 

The fast approach of his befuddled teammates drew his eyes. It took him a moment to remember to respond to who was on the phone.

 

“There's a problem with your story, kid.”

 

Garcia put up her hands in question, JJ and Reid trailing behind her. Morgan covered the receiver on the phone.

 

“I need you to get a lock on Prentiss' cell.”

 

Their confused expressions immediately froze into shock. It took JJ's hand on her arm to get Garcia moving, nearly running back to her office.

 

“ _There isn't a problem--”_

 

“ _Hang up, why are you talking to this guy--”_

 

“ _I'm telling the truth.”_

 

He uncovered the phone, keeping his voice as level as he could manage. “Right now I'm willing to believe you, but that's not the problem. You see, the person whose phone you have works for the FBI, and she isn't a dude.”

 

“ _Oh shit.”_

 

“ _Dude, hang up!”_

 

The line finally went dead. When he lowered the phone from his ear, JJ couldn't keep still any longer and moved to his desk.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I don't know. We need to get Hotch.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“I got a lock on her cell just over the state line in Pennsylvania.” Garcia was barely sitting still in her chair. The dot on the map she had marked for them couldn't have been any more visible under her pointing, unless she brought out a laser.

 

Hotchner spared Morgan a glance, and the younger man quickly got the message, putting a hand on her arm to try and still her. He tilted his head in thanks, prompting a response.

 

“The boys I talked to didn't pick up again, but they did start responding when I texted. They just keep repeating the same story. A man walked up to them at a gas station and handed them the phone.”

 

“Did they identify the gas station?” Hotchner tried to keep his eyes on Morgan, needing to limit his focus before he became overwhelmed with his team's anxiety.

 

Garcia's fidgeting wasn't the worst of it. Reid was tapping the end of a pen against the folders in front of him. JJ had her arms wrapped so tight around her body it looked like she was about to snap. He tried not to think about what message his body language was sending out.

 

“I'm still trying to get it out of them, but considering the location of the cell phone, we can always track it down within a few mile radius. These boys don't drive, if they were hanging out at a gas station, good bet is that they walked there.”

 

“Small town off the highway?” A pit stop on the way to anywhere.

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Do we have any idea as to why Prentiss would be there?” It was always difficult being the voice of doubt, but they could not rush blind into anything. “Can we be sure that we aren't overreacting?”

 

He lost his singular focus as Morgan's eyes moved among the rest of the team, all of them quickly projecting their doubts to one another. Reid was the one who managed to answer for the group.

 

“There could be a perfectly logical explanation for why she would be out there, but we have no good explanation for how her cellphone got into the hands of two teenagers.”

 

“If she didn't go out on her own, we have no idea how long she has been gone. If she was taken, whoever did it had the whole weekend to do it before we would know she was missing.” Morgan was twisting the cap on his pen, every time he lifted his fingers to start another twist, Hotchner could see his fingers shaking.

 

“No.” JJ loosened the hold she had across her midsection, and the team turned their focus towards her. “She told me about going to something on Saturday, some event her mother put together. If she missed that, we would have heard about it.”

 

“Unless she just decided not to go.” Morgan, finally being cautious.

 

“Well, whatever the case, we can't reach her. Can we really risk debating whether or not she's gone before we bother to start looking for her?” Reid's eyes didn't stay on any one person too long, apparently too afraid to find a yes answer among his friends. At the moment, he out of all of them had the greatest fear of abandonment. It would not do well for his healing psyche to see a worst fear played out.

 

Hotch grimaced, displeased with the what if's and could be's of Prentiss' situation. “Start small, there is no need to panic. She might have lost the cell and it ended up in someone else's hands. I'll call the ambassador, see if she showed up to her event Saturday. JJ, check her condo, see when she was there last. Morgan, keep talking to those teenagers, figure out what you can. Garcia, once we have a gas station, see if you can get in touch with anyone about security footage, maybe we can at least ID the man who gave away her phone.” He stood up, and they followed suit, all determined. Having a task would only be a temporary reprieve on their anxieties. “We have no reason to think she's in any danger right now, we'll figure this out.”

 

With no individual task, Reid was the last to head for the door. “How do you think the ambassador will take the news that her daughter might be missing?”

 

It wasn't something Hotch wanted to dwell on.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _I don't think you're real.”_

 

_Emily would have laughed if he didn't sound so serious. “I think that's the way I should feel about you.”_

 

“ _You don't though.”_

 

“ _No.”_

 

“ _I'm pleased to hear it.”_

 

“ _Get doubted out of reality a lot?”_

 

“ _More than I like.”_

 

_He was being honest, though she couldn't tell about what. How did one get doubted out of reality with such conviction? “Well, if I'm not real, what I say to you doesn't matter.”_

 

“ _Very true. Would you like to have lunch?”_

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

_Frank smiled, and her heart raced with what might have been fear._

 

* * *

 

 

“ _It was a charity event for local youth centers. Someone I know asked me to host it, get as many big hitters as I could. Emily.. Emily wasn't even sure she was going to go.”_

 

“But you did see her that night?” It wasn't as bad as a death notification, but a phone call like this was up there in terms of ones Hotchner never wanted to make. That he knew this woman did not help matters.

 

“ _Yes. She made sure to say hello when she arrived.”_

 

“And when did she leave?”

 

“ _I'm not sure. I didn't see her after the event.”_

 

“You don't know when she left?”

 

“ _No. I'm sending the guest list to your office now.”_

 

She knew how this investigation would go. At least she was not an obstacle to be gone over. Parties with attendants like hers tended not to be so forth coming with their guests' names. “Thank you. Ma'am, I just want you to know--”

 

“ _Keep me updated Agent Hotchner.”_

 

“Of course.” The line was already dead, he wasn't sure if she had even heard him.

 

She had been surprised that they hadn't heard from her daughter. At least that ruled out someone having contacted her, though it did complicate things for them. Ambassador Prentiss wasn't even on assignment, whatever political leverage they could gain on her by holding her daughter was limited.

 

That put monetary and political gain out of the picture for motive.

 

Hotchner did not look forward to digging through the personal life of an agent under him. Forcing Morgan to reveal his history had been bad enough, what fresh wound was there to be discovered in digging into Emily's life? Would it really be necessary? There was still a small hope that she was simply AWOL, and not kidnapped, though he knew it was foolish. He would need a nice speech to give her about worrying her colleagues when she showed up.

 

He couldn't think of one, knowing he wouldn't need it.

 

He pushed away from his desk slowly, not in a hurry to update the team. Knowing Prentiss had gone to the event Saturday gave their potential kidnapper a smaller period of time to have had her, but it left them nowhere. He looked at his watch, knowing without reading the time that she hadn't even been gone forty-eight hours. If she had been anyone other than an FBI agent, no one would have even started looking for her yet.

 

When he exited his office, the team sans Garcia were clustered around their desks. Emily's was the one none of them had leaned on. Their eyes were on him as he walked down the stairs, gazes burning through his suit and into his skin. He had to get them through this.

 

“She was at the event Saturday night.”

 

JJ was nodding as he spoke. “According to her building super, she left some time yesterday around lunch. Her condo's security hasn't had any notifications since, no one in or out.”

 

Less than twenty-four hours since their last record of any activity from her. Hopefully there were witnesses to find in that time frame.

 

“She took her car, Garcia is running the plates to see if it's been found by any police.”

 

They were scrambling ahead without him, but he would not reprimand them at this turn. It was the next step to take anyway. “Did she have any luck with the gas station?”

 

Morgan held up his cellphone. “The kids finally admitted where they had been, she's in touch with the store owner now.”

 

“Good work, I'm going to check with Garcia.” He paused, trying not to let them see how controlled his breathing had just become. What were they going to find at that gas station? “You might not feel like, but I need you all to try and get some work done until we know more.”

 

Hotchner spared them all a quick glance, making sure no one was going to jump up and demand more. The reluctant nods he got weren't comforting, but at least they were something he could deal with at the moment. They stayed clumped together as he walked away, unlikely to actually start any of their work.

 

Garcia's typing filled the room when he entered her office, and she didn't bother looking over her shoulder when she spoke.

 

“Want to see him?”

 

His body froze, door half closed behind him. “You found him? Already?”

 

“Not a lot of traffic there. Plus, the place only has two cameras, one inside, and one out.”

 

“Show me.” He leaned at her side, hand curling around the back of her chair.

 

“Well, here's our mystery gift giver.”

 

The image was grainy, black and white. A man in a suit was at the counter, clerk ringing up something.

 

“Did you get any card information?”

 

“No, he paid cash.”

 

“Smart guy.”

 

He turned away from the counter on the monitor, digging into his jacket pocket. Two teenagers were behind him, waiting for him to move out of the way in order to pay for their snacks.

 

“Maybe, but the clerk definitely remembered him.” Garcia pointed towards the monitor with her pen, almost smiling.

 

“Why?”

 

“Says the man gave him two hundred dollars cash and told him to keep the change.”

 

“What?” Not behavior from a man trying to stay under the radar. “Did he notice anything else about him?”

 

On the monitor, the two kids were moving away from the counter when the man stopped them. They looked ready to walk away, but when he held out the cellphone, they were ensnared.

 

“No, nothing except his suit look tailored and he was the only person that could pull off that mustache.”

 

The quality of the image wasn't good enough for Hotch to agree or disagree about the physical appearance of the man. The man was likely their unsub, and so he would have a hard time finding him attractive anyway.

 

“Get me the clearest image you can of his face, I want to show him to the Ambassador, see if she recognizes him.”

 

“Can do.”

 

His eyes were having trouble moving away from the grainy image. “Did you get anything from the outside camera?”

 

Her shoulders tensed up and her hands stilled on her keyboard a moment, drawing his focus.

 

“Garcia?”

 

“It's not a great angle, I can't really do anymore with it--”

 

“Garcia.”

 

One tap from the keyboard and the image on the monitor changed. “It's Prentiss' car. I can't tell if anyone else is in there with him.”

 

 


End file.
